


Nature Boy

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Camping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To escape from the troubles of bullying at school, Kurt heads to summer camp. It's not what he was expecting. <b><a href="http://ourlivesareweird.tumblr.com/post/53777947669/fic-nature-boy-pairing-kurt-blaine">Reblog on Tumblr!</a></b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nature Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Klaine Hiatus Madness](http://klainehiatusmadness.tumblr.com/) week.
> 
> Accompanying picture:
> 
>  

It isn’t until Kurt drops his suitcases at the foot of his bed with a resounding thud that he bothers to glance around at his surroundings. Seven weeks in a cabin full of strapping young men might sound like paradise in theory, but years spent in the bleak reality of public high school have shaped Kurt’s expectations — a little lower, a lot rougher, enough to raise the walls around him.

He stares around at the other boys tucking away piles of clothing into the few dressers scattered around the living space, and notices that not a single one of them turns to greet him.

Well, good.

Somehow, Kurt’s managed to claim one of the beds directly by the largest cabin window. Curiously, he glances outside towards the view that his father had hoped would help him forget his worries for a time.

_It ain’t as good as sending you to a nice private school, but it’s the best we can afford on such short notice. But we’re thinking of you, Kurt. We’ll budget more carefully this year, maybe your good grades can get you a couple of scholarships, and we’ll make it our top priority to send you to a better school for senior year._

Like most ideas of his dad’s, it’s a nice thought, but as Kurt’s eyes scan over the skyline of endless evergreen, he’s just not sure how any of this is supposed to help.

He’s jarred out of his thoughts as someone’s shoulder roughly bumps against his own.

“Crap, did I hit you? Sorry about that —mom decided to send me into camp with a few dozen freshly baked cookies for all of us to share, and neither of us realized how much that would throw my balance.”

Hand carefully wrapping over his shoulder, Kurt stares, shoulders hunched about his neck. It’s rare for one shove not to be followed up with a second, let alone for him to receive an apology. His eyes scan the boy’s face for any sign of a threat, but all he ends up seeing are the little details, dark curls trying their hardest to escape from copious amounts of hair gel.

And bright hazel eyes framed by dark lashes, brighter than any pair have the right to be.

“Wait, you’re the new kid, aren’t you?”

Kurt nods, brow raising when the stranger holds out a hand for a shake.

“I’m Blaine.”

For some reason, he takes it.

“Kurt.”

* * *

Camp is everything that Kurt strives to avoid in life. Every last square inch of their cabin is streaked with dirt and mud by the end of the first day, and for every incessant mosquito that buzzes by his ear are a dozen more ready to settle on his arm at the first calm breeze. Inside the cabin, the air quickly grows stuffy and humid, but stepping outside means Kurt’s bound to burn in a matter of minutes.

Worst of all, there’s no way he can wear any of his favorite clothes without inevitably ruining them over the course of the day.

Today, the counselors have brought the group to Cobb Creek, a stream thankfully covered by ample tree cover. Armed with bottles of bug repellant, Kurt sits off to the side and away from the water, watching the majority of the campers splash about. Hugging his knees to his chest, he leans against the rough tree trunk, heels dragging through the dirt.

Not once since their introduction has Blaine’s smile wavered. He seems especially popular with the younger children at the camp, fighting against the water with one kid under each arm, roaring at intervals before the kids break him down with tickles and laughter.

Kurt jumps as someone comes to sit by his side. One of the girls — Jackie or Jessie, he can’t remember which, feeling a slight knot of guilt settling in his stomach as he smiles tentatively.

“Not gonna go for a swim?” she asks, nudging his shoulder lightly with her own.

Turning to glance out at the water again, Kurt weighs the thought for a moment, then shakes his head. “It’s nice to be out of the cabin for the day, but I’m not much of a swimmer. Plus, getting wet means washing away all of the repellant and sunscreen I’ve been applying since dawn, and I’m not sure I have enough with me today to take care of that all over again,” muses Kurt, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Ooh, do you have any extra repellant?” Jackie or Jessie pipes up, clapping when Kurt hands over the bottle. “God, you’re so prepared for all of this stuff. My parents shuttled me out here with only a week’s notice, and I’ve never been camping before in my life. I’m pretty sure they just didn’t want to deal with me for the summer.”

As he listens, Kurt’s eyes are still trained on Blaine in the distance. The swim tank Blaine wears leaves very little to the imagination, and Kurt ducks his face behind the crook of his elbow to hide the flush of his cheeks. It’s not quite hot enough out to blame it on the weather.

“You have to admit though,” says Jackie or Jessie as she smears repellant on her already thoroughly bitten arms, “it’s really nice out here. I live in downtown San Francisco, so I’m not so used to having all these giant trees around.”

“Yeah,” replies Kurt absently, gaze flickering over to the bottle, now nearly empty.

“So, why are you here?” she asks, exhaling as she flips the cap back on. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No problem,” Kurt says with a shake of his head, rubbing awkwardly at his neck again, a phantom itch settling just beneath his skin. “I’m just here to get away for a while, I guess. I actually live in Ohio, so.”

“Oh wow, that’s _far_. How are you liking it so far out here in California?”

In the distance, Blaine helps to toss one of the kids out into the water, cannonball splashing everyone in the near vicinity.

“It’s different,” Kurt replies.

* * *

Crickets are chirping outside, and Kurt can’t sleep.

He’s pretty sure that they’re crickets, anyway. The buzzing sounds a great deal like the sound effects that get used in films, but Kurt’s never studied entomology enough to know the difference between one pest or another. It’s not the type of thing he wants to spend time on, especially not when he’s trying to get to sleep.

Suddenly, a knock against his bed jolts him to alertness.

“You awake?” a whisper calls out from the bunk below.

Frozen stiff, Kurt weighs the merits of ignoring Blaine and pretending to be asleep. It’d be the less stressful option, at least. Kurt’s never stayed up late with his peers, other than occasional sleepovers with Rachel and Mercedes. He’s not sure what guys would talk about at this hour. Not sure what Blaine would want to talk about — the girls at the camp, maybe. Things Kurt can’t relate to.

His arms are pinned by his sides, and Kurt stares up at the ceiling, eyes trailing along the grain of wood.

“Kurt?” Blaine whispers again, slightly louder this time.

Cursing himself for his curiosity, and for the flush he can already feel spreading through his cheeks, Kurt squeezes his eyes closed before peeking out over the side of the bed. It’s a precarious position, but probably not quite enough to merit the tight grip that he holds on his bed, knuckles white from the pull.

“What?” Kurt replies, like it’s nothing at all.

The grin that spreads over Blaine’s face is so bright that it’s almost aggravating, both arms crossed over one another and resting between Blaine’s head and his pillow. He tilts his head to get a better look at Kurt, sheets lightly draped over his body, not tangled enough to suggest that Blaine’s slept at all.

“Nothing,” says Blaine, shaking his head in amusement. “You usually snore when you’re sleeping heavily, and I haven’t heard anything tonight, so I was wondering if you were still up.”

Kurt’s face flushes hotly, and this time he’s pretty sure it’s not thanks to Blaine’s smile. “I do not _snore_ ,” he hisses indignantly.

“You actually do,” counters Blaine with a hushed laugh, nodding before he pushes himself up to a sitting position, leaning out and drawing closer to Kurt. “But don’t worry, it’s not loud or anything. It’s actually kind of cute.”

Kurt’s eyes narrow suspiciously. He can’t seem to figure Blaine out. And when that happens, it’s always easier to assume the worst.

“I’ll try to be more mindful of my _snoring_ in the future,” mutters Kurt, gaze skirting to the side. “Sorry if I’ve ever kept you up.”

“Hey—”

Without giving Blaine time to respond, Kurt slides back on his bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around his shoulders as he turns to face the wall, face still overly warm as he buries his cheek against his pillow.

After some rustling of fabric below, he’s pretty sure that he hears Blaine apologize. Or maybe that’s just his hope speaking.

* * *

Archery. In the hands of children, Kurt’s pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before an arrow takes out someone at camp, and he’s none too eager to be the first, carefully picking the target furthest away from the group, hidden behind a large tree trunk. His arms are aching and sweat is trickling down his temple, but it’s almost relieving to take part in something he’s decent at. Something that doesn’t require wading the treacherous waters of teenage interaction.

He’s just released another arrow when he hears steps approaching from behind. Kurt watches the arrow’s path intently, the corner of his lips rising when it hits dead center. Maybe it’ll be enough to prove to Jessie that he’s not wasting his whole time at the camp. There are things he comes out of hiding for.

“Think you can beat that?” Kurt asks, raising a brow when he glances over his shoulder, smile fading slightly when he realizes who it is.

Blaine stands a few feet away, carrying two plastic cups filled with ice water, one held out towards Kurt.

Well, damn.

“Uh…” Blaine considers, taking Kurt’s words as an invitation to step closer, tilting his head as he squints at the target. He whistles, shaking his head. “I’m not sure that I can, actually. I’m a decent archer, but you were pretty much dead center with that shot.”

Kurt hooks his bow over his shoulder, chewing on his lower lip.

“Thirsty?” Blaine asks, holding out the cup again.

Exhaling evenly, Kurt nods, accepting the cup gratefully. “Thanks,” he murmurs, taking a deep gulp, wincing internally when the tilt of his head causes the perspiration on his brow to drip. He’ll definitely need a shower after this.

“No problem,” says Blaine, visibly relaxing and settling further into his smile. “For a second, I thought you were still holding my comment about snoring against me — which was stupid of me to say, I’ll admit, but… I was hoping it wouldn’t keep us from talking for the rest of camp. Especially being bunkmates.”

Wiping across his brow with the back of his hand, Kurt hesitates for a second, then shakes his head in incredulity. “Why do you care?”

Blaine recoils slightly, looking hurt. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re popular among every single group at this camp. The kids love you, so does everyone in our cabin, and don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way the girls here look at you.” Even though there’s heat in his words, it’s not angry that Kurt feels so much as a constant discomfort, like he doesn’t quite fit in his skin anymore. Not here at camp, anyway. “You’ve got half of camp falling at your feet, so why bother talking to me?”

Blaine stares at his feet for a few seconds, index finger tapping lightly at the rim of his cup before he looks up, expression no longer light and welcoming, but clouded instead.

It’s almost like looking into a mirror.

“I was just hoping we could be friends,” he says softly. “Why does it have to be anything more than that?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Kurt sighs, breathing uncomfortably around the knot in his chest.

“We only have another month here at camp before we all go our separate ways. Maybe you’re okay with fleeting friendships, but I tend to prefer those that last.”

Before he can get a glimpse of Blaine’s expression, Kurt turns on his heel, walking briskly back towards the cabin. He doesn’t even get a foot in the door before the regret comes crashing down around him.

* * *

The crickets are chirping again, and Kurt can’t seem to get comfortable no matter how hard he tries.

Taking a chance, he slides over to the edge of his bunk, peeking over the side to where Blaine sleeps below. He can’t get a good look at the other boy’s face, but Blaine looks nothing now like he did when they last talked in the middle of the night. His body is hunched, legs drawn up closer to his chest and body turned on its side. If anything, this is what Kurt feels like he can most identify with.

Feeling small.

Kurt watches for a couple minutes longer, heart pounding as he hopes Blaine doesn’t wake and notice. (Or maybe he hopes that Blaine does, even though he can’t imagine how things might unfold from there.) Hooking his chin on the wooden frame of the bed, Kurt’s brow furrows, mind wandering through a fog he can’t even begin to parse out.

He’s drawn to Blaine. Only a fool wouldn’t be able to recognize that in himself. But he’s also clearly keeping Blaine at a distance, and… well.

Maybe it’s just safer that way.

* * *

They’re paired up for theater, of all things. Kurt isn’t sure whether or not _Chess_ is a great musical to put on in front of a crowd so young, but maybe the counselors figured that it’d be topical given the game nights that they often have as a group. Everyone knows what chess is. Why not sing about it?

It turns out that Blaine’s as strong of a singer as Kurt is, maybe even more. Enough to land himself the role of the tragically charismatic Anatoly, lead character in the musical.

Kurt’s glad that his role is that of Freddie, the antagonist, something that lets him work out all of the tension and frustration bubbling in his chest.

“ _You’ve let them all down already. Win or betray yourself, too. You don’t want those jerks to get what they want,_ ” Kurt sings, the lights overhead shining down brightly, making it hard to focus on Blaine’s face. His skin’s itching again — Kurt’s pretty sure the foundation they’re using isn’t the best quality.

Blaine’s gaze is darker now than Kurt’s ever seen it before, and with the sharp shadows drawn by the light, he looks older. Worn. “ _They’ll get what they want. They always do._ ”

“ _No, they won’t, if you win. Be true to the game._ ”

Blaine would absolutely _kill_ as a member of New Directions, Kurt thinks to himself.

* * *

“Is there anything you _can’t_ do, Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt smiles faintly as he strings his newest creation around Jessie’s neck, a loose choker crafted out of shells and glass beads, glittering under the sun where they’re seated for lunch. She’s the closest thing he has these days to consistent company, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions of him, doesn’t notice any of the things that set him on edge, doesn’t notice the discomfort.

Kurt never thought that he’d be so relieved to have someone _not_ pay attention.

“I figure go big or go home,” he says lightly, closing the clasp and patting the back of her neck, encouraging her to turn around and show the necklace off. “No one ever touches the shells because they think it’s too much work. All the more materials for me, I say.”

“It’s beautiful,” murmurs Jessie, grinning as she stares down at it as best she can, then rummaging through her knapsack for a mirror.

“Glad to be of service.”

Admiring her reflection in the mirror, Jessie threads her fingers through her hair, taming some of the waves and tossing them to the side. “I feel a little spoiled, having you all to myself. Whenever I go looking for you, you’re reading a book or practicing your lines for the musical. Isn’t there anything else you’re interested in here?” Jessie lowers the mirror slightly, arching a brow. “Someone you’ve got your eye on, maybe?”

Huffing softly in amusement, Kurt stares at the palms of his hands for a few seconds. “Pretty sure said person isn’t interested. And I haven’t given them a reason to be.”

“You _are_ kind of prickly,” Jessie nods sagely. “Not everyone’s as thick-skinned as myself.”

“Now there’s a fact.”

She punches his shoulder, so suddenly and sharply that Kurt can’t help but laugh as he falls over to his side, curling protectively as he flails an arm out in her direction.

When he sits up, he’s pretty sure he catches sight of curly black hair in the distance, but before he has the time to properly check, it’s gone.

* * *

“You sing really well,” Blaine tells him one day after rehearsal.

Kurt doesn’t give himself the time to be stunned into silence. “Thank you. You sing really well, too.”

* * *

He’s up before the sun has time to push up properly above the horizon, when the air’s still heavy with dew and the birds chirp prettily in the distance. There are faint snores coming from every which way in the cabin, and in his half-awake state, Kurt almost lets himself be annoyed by the fact — clearly, it was someone else that Blaine had heard all those nights ago. Not him.

Before he can think better of it, he glances down at the lower bunk, expecting to find a lump under wrinkled sheets. To his surprise, Blaine’s bed is empty and already made, cover tucked carefully under the mattress.

Curiously, Kurt kicks away his own sheets, grabbing a t-shirt and shorts before he heads into the bathroom to change.

* * *

He finds Blaine by the river, of all places. Trying to push a canoe out into the water, oars carefully laid out over the seats in the boat.

Kurt tells himself that he’s only stopping by to help Blaine undock, that it’s the nice thing to do, that anyone should take the five minutes it takes to help a stranger out in such a way.

Not that Blaine’s a stranger, but — in some ways, they might as well be.

“Need help?” Kurt asks as he steps closer, finding his way through the debris by the side of the river, careful not to step in any deep puddles. A fruitless battle, he knows. If he’s really planning to get Blaine out into the water, he’ll have to get wet, a little dirty, but he’s not sure whether or not he’s wanted there in the first place.

Blaine glances up, gaping briefly with surprise before his expression sets, carefully even and with that same quiet neutrality that unnerved Kurt all those weeks ago.

“Come with me?” Blaine asks with a soft tilt of his head.

Kurt isn’t sure why he agrees.

It doesn’t take long between the two of them to push out into the river, slow and placid enough for them to drift calmly with the help of their oars to keep them heading in the right direction. Everything’s still heavy in the morning, save for the sky that stretches overhead, all pinks and oranges, fiery across the cloudless expanse. Blaine has one oar, Kurt the other, and it’s almost surprising that they’ve managed to keep themselves straight with few words shared. This is the most they’ve ever interacted, Kurt thinks. It shouldn’t be this smooth.

“Why did you come all the way out here for camp?” Blaine finally asks, breaking the soft silence between them. Kurt glances over, but Blaine doesn’t meet his gaze, staring at something indistinct by the bank of the river. “You don’t seem to enjoy typical camp activities that much. You’re happiest when you’re on the makeshift stage, singing your heart out.”

Kurt raises his brows slightly. Blaine noticed?

“Things are… difficult for me back home,” he finds himself admitting, words slipping from his lips in a rush. “I needed an escape from it, I guess. My dad heard good things about this camp, and he thought that the distance would help. You know, fresh air and the great outdoors, far away from civilization.”

“Was he right?”

Blaine meets Kurt’s gaze at last, wide eyes seeming to anchor Kurt in place. He grasps helplessly at words before offering a quiet, uncertain nod. “I think so,” he murmurs. “I didn’t want to admit it at first, but it’s nice to get away from everything and not have to watch out over my shoulder for — for the things that usually bother me.”

“I’m gay, Kurt.”

It’s an admission that clashes with their surroundings. The peacefulness of the running water, the quiet brush of their voices, the birds singing in the distance. Jarring, an interruption.

Maybe Blaine intended it that way. Kurt can only wonder if Blaine’s heart is beating as loudly as his own, insistent thudding in his chest, pulse pounding in his ears.

“I had no idea.” Blaine’s lips thin, curving slightly at the corners, an expression Kurt can’t read. “I’m… I’m gay too.”

Blaine’s expression folds further, a slight smile as he ducks his head, hand loosening on his oar, enough that Kurt reaches out for it in Blaine’s stead. “I was kind of hoping,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I didn’t know, but I was kind of hoping. Because, you know — I saw a lot of things in you that I used to see in myself when I first came out here, two years ago. Hiding from everyone behind some kind of wall that you put up around yourself.”

Kurt’s hands tighten around the oars. As much as he ever wants to tell people off for assuming that they know who he is or how he’s feeling, this is different. An extended hand, almost like the day they first met. He watches Blaine’s expression, malleable and ever changing, too quick for him to follow.

“I thought that you hadn’t noticed,” offers Kurt softly. “That I was different. And that the moment you did, you would shun me, maybe even make fun of me. I know I was supposed to come out here to get away from everything, but sometimes things follow you no matter where you go.”

“Tell me about it.”

They drift down the river silently for some amount of time; Kurt loses track of the seconds. He only realizes that the sun’s starting to scatter over the surface of the water, broken flashes, reflection never constant. Leaning over the side of the boat, he stares down at the water, catching brief glimpses of the dark green of his shirt, the white of Blaine’s, mixed like so many scattered pieces of paper.

He realizes that he’s the one pulling both oars now, Blaine’s hand settling on the side of the canoe, warmth close enough for Kurt to sense.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more open and honest with you,” Blaine says out of nowhere. Kurt looks back, only to find Blaine staring directly at him, though his eyes feel softer now. “I just wanted to make a friend at first, and I didn’t want to push the issue, but — after a while, I started getting nervous around you and really didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

Kurt breaks the quiet with a sudden laugh, loud enough that Blaine sits up, expression startled. “Sorry,” Kurt apologizes, shaking his head and willing his face to cool down. “It’s just — it’s kind of surreal to be hearing that from you, of all people.”

“Why’s that?”

Lips parted, Kurt takes a couple of careful breaths, finding his thoughts impossibly tangled. “Because,” he says, drawing out the pause. “I thought you were cute from the first time we met.”

Blaine grins, hesitant, but genuine in a way that has Kurt’s heart lurching. “That makes two of us,” Blaine says, thumb briefly brushing out, not quite enough to make contact with Kurt’s knee, though it draws Kurt’s gaze down nonetheless. Sends his thoughts tumbling, one after the other.

Gripping the oars tighter still, Kurt swallows thickly before looking up, heart leaping to his throat. “So.”

He can’t tell which of them is leaning in. Maybe both.

“So.”


End file.
